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Hippitty-hop-hop
13 years ago
Whehw-whic'k'ty-wick-whew-rip-rick-whip-whic'k'ty-whic'k'ty-wick-wick.
Whippidy-bips and boo-bop-bops, flicked spastic like rickety rooftop drips - rain on rust in drifts - that rhythm (dubiously) dubbed 'sick', with boom-bumbly bass that hums, grumbles and blips. Hip-hop clops atop the university ceiling, beneath the buzz of air-bus and low roofed temple, exterior beating with a-hundred butts based on concrete steps, breathing smoke like a languid dragon. Tendrils dissolve in the current; there's swift winds up here, tree limbs swaying (like unsure majors).
Even so, this unsullen flow, this unsung rerun among the culture connaiseur faux, is seen by Si Fu: respect connecting seperate spirits with relative rhythms; there's no schism up here where students and clouds combine under open roof and skies. (And yes,) There's lies, deceit that creeps along concrete - but it leaves less stains than spilled cans and gum - there's a bum for every area - a butt to fuck for fools feeling deleria; same-same in any setting. But progressing! Tides that ride on minutes and hours, a gray-green garden of social flowers.
Whippidy-bips and boo-bop-bops, flicked spastic like rickety rooftop drips - rain on rust in drifts - that rhythm (dubiously) dubbed 'sick', with boom-bumbly bass that hums, grumbles and blips. Hip-hop clops atop the university ceiling, beneath the buzz of air-bus and low roofed temple, exterior beating with a-hundred butts based on concrete steps, breathing smoke like a languid dragon. Tendrils dissolve in the current; there's swift winds up here, tree limbs swaying (like unsure majors).
Even so, this unsullen flow, this unsung rerun among the culture connaiseur faux, is seen by Si Fu: respect connecting seperate spirits with relative rhythms; there's no schism up here where students and clouds combine under open roof and skies. (And yes,) There's lies, deceit that creeps along concrete - but it leaves less stains than spilled cans and gum - there's a bum for every area - a butt to fuck for fools feeling deleria; same-same in any setting. But progressing! Tides that ride on minutes and hours, a gray-green garden of social flowers.
